Celebrate St. Patrick’s Day with a boiled dinner
St. Patrick’s Day is a joyous occasion where everyone in America gets to be Irish for a day.
For many, that means day drinking, for others it means Guinness, corned beef or soda bread. Eating Irish food, listening to Irish music and watching Irish step dancers are some of the most common images that come to mind. Watching the Dropkick Murphy’s play is a huge local tradition. Leominster is lucky enough to have two Leominster High School graduates in the band. In Chicago, they dye the river green for the day, and parades in honor of the day reach all the way around the globe to Tokyo where, just like in Boston, people dress in green for the day and celebrate Irish culture and heritage.
When most people see my mocha-colored skin and long dreadlocks, the last thing they think of is Ireland. But, in fact, I am a foremost expert on St. Patrick’s Day. I have Irish citizenship, an Irish passport (somewhere I cannot find) and I spent some of my first years in Ireland as well as many summers. Every March 17, my proud Irish mother wanted to show all of America how amazingly Irish we were.
One of my personal favorite St. Patrick’s Day memories is trying to explain St. Patrick’s Day to my skeptical Irish grandmother in Ireland. For her, it was a saints day like many others where you went to church and lit candles and said prayers. Maybe you stopped at the pub for a pint on the way home but there would not be any real hoopla. There could not have been, she explained with a brogue thicker than stew. Her accent seemed to get thicker when she was upset, which was often, and as she told of how now in the village they were having a little todo for St. Patrick’s Day. Only because it is so big in the United States she croaked “and now everyone’s seeing the big parades and all on the telly so they’re wanting to do more in the villages to be more like America. Hmmmphh. And no one going to mass. Hmmphhh.”
Despite her skepticism, she still mailed a card every March. And every March there was a sheet of shamrocks — fresh clovers she would press between pages of her favorite book, the Bible, and send over to us, freshly picked from the actual emerald isle. Every year for school, Mum would pin some of the shamrocks on me, find some green to put on my brother and I and proudly send us to school, the most Irish boys in Leominster. And every year, I would return home having not worn enough green to be deemed ”The Most Irish.” The winner always had face paint, a green shamrock on the cheek or gold eyeliner or something. No matter how much of my summer had been spent in Ireland, I was always got “out-irished” by some Italian kid with a stay-at-home mom who knew how to party better.
In fact, America has been out-irishing Ireland since the inception of the holiday. Which makes sense when you really think about it. You can’t really miss something until it is gone. Immigrating to a new country thousands of miles away from home, however, could really make you homesick. As Irish immigrant numbers grew, so did the celebrations. As the numbers and popularity grew, Ireland itself began to notice.
In America, it was an easy day to celebrate, but the saint and the day both had shadows and suspicions that were harder to overcome. It had political implications for Irish independence during The Troubles, the era of conflict between the British and the Irish from the late 1960s to the 1990s. It was not until 1996 that the Republic of Ireland held its first St Patrick’s Day festival.
The man himself also has a curious past. His only history also happens to be written by him — not to say that it is untrue, but who would not embellish a little while recalling one’s own life? Let’s just say there were no snakes. Patrick’s story is that he was captured by slaves and brought to Ireland from Rome at the age of 16. He heard the voice of God and God told him how to escape. He was led to the coast where a ship was waiting to sail him home, where he became a priest. After becoming a priest, he returned to spread the good word. Saving the poor people from paganism and ushering in Catholicism. Again, according to him.
No one knows where the truth ends and the legend begins. Was he really enslaved? Did he escape? Why did he return? Did he really convert the whole Isle? There are some loose ends, for sure, but we do know that someone named Patrick did achieve Sainthood after preaching in Ireland. Let us just call these embellishments “sparkle.” A little Irish magic to make the day sparkle a little brighter.
And no celebration is complete without a feast. Corned Beef and cabbage is the perfect dinner to honor our guy Paddy.
The funny thing about corned beef is, while it may be the Irish dinner everyone makes, including my Irish mother, I have never had corned beef in Ireland. Never even saw it on a menu. In Ireland, it is more likely a salted piece
of pork, not beef, that gets boiled and eaten — a rasher, Ireland’s version of salty, delicious bacon. The salted beef came from China. Poor Irish immigrants would buy the cheaper cuts fresh off the boat, on the docks, where Irish and Chinese often
worked side by side unloading cargo from around the world for wealthy New Yorkers and Bostonians.
Boiled dinner
Boiled dinners are pretty foolproof. Time is your only enemy.
Make sure to get your boil going nice and early if serving that day. A pro tip is making the meat portion the day before — no one has
ever said that a boiled dinner is “too boiled.”
A good cut of brisket is the most important decision for this recipe, though a good, corned piece of meat might not look beautiful. Nitrates make the meat pink and the brining process can be up to and in excess of two weeks. A nitrate-free version can look grey. Kind of like a boiled boot. A nice pink piece may look amazing but depending on the nitrate used it could have enough sodium
to kill a horse. Cheaper prices mean cheaper nitrates, which can be not so great for the heart, especially for those with high blood pressure.
Have brisket, taters, cabbage, carrots and parsnips ready. Rinse the root veggies and quarter the cabbage.
To Make: Gently place your corned beef brisket in the bottom of your largest stock pot. Kiss it like the blarney stone for extra Irishness. Pour cold filtered
water over, cover and bring to a boil. Not a crazy boil, just a nice gentle one. After 3 hours add taters and cook, covered for 35 more minutes. Add carrots, cabbage and parsnips and cook for 30 more minutes. Veggies should be tender to the touch or fork, meat should be ready to fall apart.
To Serve: Move brisket to cutting board. Cut the meat with a long sharp knife against the grain. Thick slices work great for this tender beef. Cut a little
cross on top of the potatoes and smoosh the corners in. Place a nice pat of butter on the bottom dish and be sure to ladle enough broth to keep everything moist and juicy. A strong Irish mustard like Coleman’s is highly recommended on the side. The Dropkick Murphy’s new album is acoustic and great dinner music. Put it on the stereo, pour yourself a pint and cheers to those around you and those gone. Erin Go Braugh!